Wings and Everything
by Maybe K
Summary: Max has been living with Jeb for 8 years now and is leading a normal life. One day Jeb gets a call about another bird kid, Fang, who goes to live with them. The only problem is that he was in the process of being brainwashed by the school to become the ultimate soldier. How will Max deal with the broody newcomer?
1. The More Wings the Merrier

Life with Jeb was good. I couldn't complain. I mean, _anything_ was better than living in a dog crate at the School, but who could really complain about sunny, sunny California? We lived in a modest house in San Diego, not too big, not too small. As it turns out, the best place to hide is in plain sight (crowded cities don't hurt either). I got to go to public school (actual school) like all the normal kids. We went to amusement parks and the beach. We had movie nights and every Sunday morning we made pancakes. All in all, life was good.

I'd spent 8 years of my life at the School before Jeb got me out. I was 16 now. That means I'd spent half of my life in a dog crate. But that was over now. If they were looking for me they hadn't found me yet. I had been scheduled to be "retired" in the middle of my 8th year, and Jeb had offered to be the one to do it. After convincing the School that I had been exterminated, he snuck me out and formally cut ties with the School. It couldn't have been easy. He risked his life for me, and I was eternally grateful.

I had a normal life now. Well, as normal as it could be with wings. Jeb had asked me if I wanted to get rid of them. At first I was furious, even at the age of 8. How could he want to take away a part of me? Eventually I realized that he just wanted to help me live a normal life untouched by the School. The life I could have lived I had they not experimented on me. However, I love my wings. There's nothing in this world better than flying. Yes, my wings make me different and weird and a freak, but they're mine and I love them.

Life had been relatively simple until one chilly day in February. I woke up early that morning, maybe 2 a.m., dying of thirst. So I trudged half asleep into the kitchen. Eyelids half closed, barely seeing anything, I jumped upon realizing there was a figure already in there. After a moment I realized it was just Jeb. I blew a sigh of relief.

"You scared me," I playfully scolded him.

He looked up, seeming awfully tired. His glasses were off and he was rubbing his temples.

"Hmm?" he said, having just realized I was there, "sorry." He gave me a tired smile.

Pulling out a chair I sat down at the table. Jeb looked older without his glasses on I noted. The few grey hairs amongst the bright red ones didn't help either. I looked at his phone lying face down on the table. He had been staring at it I realized.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my brow furrowing.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just work stuff."

Why would the software company be calling him at this time?

"Is everything okay?" I pushed on ahead.

"Everything's fine," he assured me, then after a pause, "I'm going to get some sleep." He stood from the table and replaced his glasses. He patted my head lightly, "goodnight."

"Goodnight," I echoed, looking up at him, still worried.

I sat there for a few minutes, listening to the light scuffle of his house shoes, trying to figure out what could be wrong.

* * *

As I was walking home from school the next day I spotted Jeb's car in the driveway. Okay, something was _definitely_ up. Briskly jogging, I made my way up the front steps and into the living room. He was for sure home, the door wasn't locked. I set my backpack down by the door.

"Jeb?"

"In here," he called. It was coming from the kitchen.

I followed the sound of his voice and found him seated at the head of the kitchen table like the night before.

His hands were folded in front of him. "Please, take a seat Max," he offered.

Okayyyy. What was going on here? Last time Jeb had asked me to sit at the kitchen table he was telling me my pet goldfish, Goldie, was dead.

I whistled. Seconds later my dog, also named Goldie, (original I know) trotted to my side, her nails clicking against the tile. Phew! Well, that wasn't it. So what was it?

"Max," Jeb began, oh here we go, he was starting with my name, "I have something very serious I want to talk to you about."

I nodded.

"It's okay if you say no. I want to make sure you're okay with this before I go through with it."

"Jeb, whatever it is just tell me. You're freaking me out."

"Alright," he conceded, "how would feel about someone else moving in with us?"

I felt the corners of my mouth turn down. "Like who?" A woman? Had he met someone?

"There's a kid, he's 2% avian, just like you an-."

" _What_?" I burst out, jumping to my feet. " _Really_? Wings and everything?"

Jeb nodded still looking serious, and Goldie barked nervously at my sudden outburst.

I rubbed behind her ear before turning back to Jeb, "Where - what- how?" I sputtered out.

This was incredible! Someone else like me! Why hadn't Jeb ever told me?

Jeb rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

"I got a call from one of my former coworkers at the School. He's heard from a reliable source that the School had another bird kid transferred in from one of their other facilities." He studied my face before continuing, "he offered to help me set the kid free."

I felt the blood drain from my face and I sat on the edge of the table to steady myself. Sneaking into the School would be very dangerous.

"It's going to be dangerous," Jeb stated, mirroring my own thoughts. "I might not be able to rescue him. And if I go in, I might not be able to make it out again. But, I won't go if you don't want me to."

I wet my lips before speaking, letting his words that I knew to be true sink in.

"I . . ." I started, "I don't want you to go, and I don't want you to be in that situation, but . . . if there is a chance to save someone, I think we should try."

He beamed, looking proud. Holding his arms out he beckoned me. We didn't hug often, to Jeb's dismay, but this seemed like a hug-worthy moment. When I leaned into his embrace he rested his head on top of mine for a moment.

"You're a good girl," he told me.

I smiled, oh Jeb, so sappy. Goldie wanted in on the action. She pushed her head in between us. We both laughed.

I pulled back, "So when are you leaving?"

"Tonight," he replied, looking apologetic.

"How long will you be gone?"

"About 3 days. I'm going to leave you some money, and there's enough food in the fridge to last at least a week."

"So what do you know about this kid?"

He looked thoughtfully at the table, "he's almost 16 and for the last 2 and a half months he's been put through a very difficult . . . program."

Uh-huh. "Program." This didn't sound good.

"Program?" I inquired, "what, pray tell, is this "program""

Jeb looked at me reluctantly, "according to my old coworker, it's a program that is supposed to turn the kid into an excellent soldier. Basically, they've been brainwashing him into seeing human contact as bad. They're trying to harden him and mute his emotions. I think they're using him as a prototype. If successful, they most likely would make a whole army like him and sell them for war purposes."

 _What_?! Jeb was inviting a violent killing machine to come live with us?

"He's not going to try and kill us is he?" I yelped.

"No!" Jeb promised, "No. I wouldn't go along with this if I thought he was already too far gone."

"So, you're going to try and reverse the brainwashing," I concluded.

He nodded, "that's the plan more or less."

"I'll help you then."

He looked at me sternly, "Max, listen to me. For the first few weeks I don't want you talking to him. I want to try and reverse the Program first."

"You don't want a homicidal maniac running around the streets of San Diego do you Jeb?"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "no, Max. I don't want that."

"Well, okay then," I stated, "then I'm going to help."

Jeb still wasn't on board.

"Look, Jeb, we're the same. He has wings and . . . and I just have to help him!" I pleaded.

He took me in, in my impassioned state and saw that I wasn't going to back down.

"Alright", he caved, "but I'll be watching in case anything gets out of control, and he's going to be handcuffed. Just promise me you won't do anything to put yourself in more danger."

I didn't want to be in danger in more than he wanted me to be, "you got it."

* * *

After dinner, Jeb grabbed his bags, all packed up and ready to go. He was about to open the door when I reached out and hugged him again.

"I should leave more often," he joked, even though I know he was sad to leave me.

"I'll be okay. Just come back safe," I asked.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"The more wings, the merrier," I replied.

He smiled, almost looking teary eyed. Then he left, and I watched as his car pulled out of the driveway, not knowing if I'd ever see him again.


	2. Manners!

On the morning of the fourth day I woke up feeling very lackluster. Very lackluster and very tired. I stayed up till 3 the night before waiting for Jeb to get back. But he never did. Nevertheless, I had school to attend. Although, all things considered, school seemed very unimportant at the moment. Maybe I could just stay home and pretend to be sick. I chuckled a little to myself as I pulled on my clothes. I was a teenager who didn't want to go to school – ha! – how much more typically could I get?

I brushed my teeth, and for a moment I considered doing something different with my hair. I sighed and ended up just brushing it like I usually did. I wasn't feeling the whole "make an effort" thing today. Pulling on some boots, I opened my bedroom door. A strong smell hit me then. Was that . . . coffee?

"Jeb?" I called out, rushing down the hall.

I reached the kitchen just as he was saying, "yes?"

I smiled tentatively, "how'd it go?"

He turned around with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, bearing 2 things; a wide smile and a black eye. "We got him out."

My jaw dropped, " _what_ _happened to you_?"

"Oh, this?" he asked, pointing as if it was irrelevant, "he didn't believe that we were actually there to get him out at firs-."

" _So he punched you in the face_?"

"Actually he elbowed me," Jeb shook his head at the look on my face, "Listen, that's not the point. Things got a little dicey, and we had to sedate him, but it's alright now."

"Where is he?"

"He's in the upstairs room right now sleeping it off."

"What took so long anyways?" I wondered aloud.

Jeb looked a little sheepish then, "on the way to get some supplies from a friend of mine in Arizona, I realized that I was probably going to need a lot more sedative and also . . . a restraining table. I had to wait for the shipment to come in."

"Well geez," I huffed, "hopefully he doesn't try to strangle us in our sleep. Use the table if you have too. Don't let him beat you up again."

Jeb shook his head exasperated, "He's strapped to it right now and, I don't plan to, Max."

"By the way, when do I get to meet him?"

This earned me the lowered-glasses-stern-look, "you will not go anywhere near him until I give the go ahead. Do you understand?"

"What about our deal?" I hounded him.

"As I recall, you promised not to put yourself in unnecessary danger."

Fair enough.

"Okay," I relented, looking at his black eye, "I'll wait."

* * *

He had been at our house for about 3 weeks and things were going swell.

In other words, they were going terribly.

He had already tried to escape twice. Once at night while I was asleep and once while I was at school. He probably would have kept trying had Jeb not made a deal that he'd stop putting him on the restraining table if the kid stopped trying to run away. Luckily, upon announcing that he was "adopting" Jeb's work let him work from so that he could home school his new "son". It was also lucky that Jeb had a sedater gun thingy and that the neighbors were apparently oblivious.

Overall this whole anti-brainwashing thing was kind of a mess. Just like a big, fat, hot mess. Jeb wasn't making any headway; the kid just wouldn't want to talk to him. It was stressing him out, which was stressing _me_ out. Finally I just had to make a case to him.

"Jeb, you gotta let me try," I begged one day after school, "I think he'll be more willing to talk after he actually sees my wings for himself."

Exhausted and at his whit's end, he sighed, "alright Max. I'll be watching with the security camera if you need me. Keep your distance, and whatever you do, don't provoke him."

Yes, finally!

"Wait in you room until I'm done hooking him up."

"I thought you were done with the handcuffs?" I asked.

"Not when you're in there," he replied.

After a few minutes of waiting in my room I heard Jeb call my name.

Show time.

Finally I would get to meet him. I hadn't even gotten to see him yet. Jeb was at the top of the stairs outside the closed "interrogation"/bedroom.

"I'll be right there in the living room. If he gives you any trouble, if som-."

"Jeb," I put a hand on his shoulder, "if anything happens I also happen to possess mutant strength."

"Alright," he resigned, "30 minutes." He tapped his watch.

I don't know what I expected when I open the door, overturned furniture and shredded paper and pillow feathers everywhere maybe. But it was clean, his bed was even made. The room looked like it always did, except for the, you know, hospital restrainer gurney in the corner and interrogating table in the middle of the room. No biggie.

How had Jeb even managed to get an interrogation table up here? For that matter, where'd he get the handcuffs?

Anyways, the fellow bird kid was nothing like I expected either. I heard ultimate soldier and pictured a big, brutish guy with a wide chiseled jaw and a permanent buzz cut. This guy was tall – I could tell even when he was sitting down – but that's where the similarities ended. His persona was dark. Dark clothes, dark eyes, dark hair. He was lean and quiet and as far as I could tell, completely uninterested in anything I had to offer. He didn't even look up as I approached. He simply sat there watch the dust motes drift about in the sun filtering in the window.

I pulled out the chair across from him and sat. Still nothing. I watched him, watching the dust mites. I felt worse for him by the second. Despite his olive skin tone I could clearly make out scars from the School, no doubt. If that didn't elicit sympathy from me, hearing him cry out at night sure did. I knew the nightmares well enough.

"So," I started gently, "what's your name? Mine is Ma-."

Dear God.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. His head snapped to mine in a split second and he fixed me with the most caustic glare I've ever seen. He looked like he had just murdered your whole family, including your puppy, and he had enjoyed every second. He could probably send the baddest bada$$ crying home to mommy. If I'd had a cup of water he probably could have turned it to ice.

Okayyy. So maybe talking was a bad idea.

I stood up. Time to bring out the wings.

But before I could even unzip my jacket, he pulled his hands back quickly and shoved the table as hard as he could. I don't actually know if that's as hard as he could push it, but it felt pretty hard as the metal slammed into me. It effectively forced the air out of my lungs with a _whoosh_! The force of it doubled me over so that I also banged my head into the corner of the table. Fortunately my burning lungs cancelled out the tingling in my forehead.

Boy was he a charmer.

Jeb burst into the room seconds later. I felt the vibrations in my side as he rushed toward me. After my reenactment of a fish on dry land, he helped me stand. I stumbled gracefully, blood trickling down my forehead now.

I gave my "fellow" mutant my meanest death glare and snarl combo, the one I was known for. I might as well have been a kitten, he didn't even flinch.

"Tell me," I wheezed out through aching lungs, "were you this big of a jerk before the School got to you?"

"Max . . ." Jeb said warily, "do you still want to show him?"

"Aww, heck to the no!" I burst out. "He ain't seein' squat till he learns some manners!"

And with that I stomped out of the room leaving some blood and a little bit of my dignity behind.


	3. The Agreement

By the time I got home from school the next day I was still irritable. It was a very cumbersome task trying to explain to your friends how overnight you managed to get a _very_ noticeable scar on your forehead.

I marched straight into Jeb's office, but before I could say anything he held up a hand.

"No," he said blatantly, without looking up.

"Jeb I'm going to be more careful this time. I-"

"No," he cut me off.

"But-"

"No." He looked up at me then, "I won't let him hurt you again."

"I'll show him my wings this time," I offered, "we have to do something! And honestly, I think I have a better chance of getting through to him."

"And you're sure you still want to help him after he split your head open?" Jeb questioned.

I nodded.

He shuffled some papers around on his desk, thinking it over. His eye was still purple. Too bad he didn't have super healing like me.

Finally he looked up. "You have a good heart," he told me with a smile.

I smiled back. "Thirty minutes?" I asked.

He nodded, "thirty minutes."

* * *

After he finished handcuffing the kid to the table I entered the upstairs room. Again, the bird kid didn't look at me as I sat down. Keeping my death glare at the ready I took a seat. I propped my legs up on the table, crossing them at the ankle. I crossed my arms. Today I was more on guard. Today I meant business.

"Have anything to say to me?" I practically ground out.

His cold eyes flicked over to me then, glancing briefly at my newly marked forehead. I wondered if he was proud of what he did. If he was he gave no indication. He didn't seem that apologetic about it either.

"Yeah," I said, "you're lucky I'm a mutant freak with super-fast healing."

"What did you want to show me?" he inquired, ignoring my comment.

I narrowed my eyes at him. But then I let out a sigh, dropping my feet to the ground. He obviously wasn't going to apologize. Time to stop messing around. Think about how he had been specially tortured by the School for the last few months I reminded myself. Of course he had a chip the size of California on his shoulder.

"I hear you like making deals," I stated, placing my palms on the table top. "I'll show you, but only if you promise me something."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What?"

"Promise me you won't try and hurt Jeb or me ever again."

After a pause he nodded, "okay, deal."

"This is a promise I advise you to take very seriously," I informed him.

Considering he had held good to his deal with Jeb, I felt okay, but still. How much could I really trust him? I didn't know him from Joe-shmo.

Standing up I slid off my jacket. Suddenly, I got really nervous. I had never shown my wings to anyone but Jeb before. Well, Jeb and the Whitecoats, but that was different. Slowly I released them, slipping them through the slits in the back of my shirt. Man it felt good to stretch them out after a long day of having them bound up at school. I rolled my shoulders, shaking out the feathers. I peeked at the bird kid. His eyes were intently glued to my wings.

I shifted from one foot to the other feeling weirdly exposed. "I showed you mine, now show me yours."

He stood, as well as he could (Jeb had made it so that he couldn't lift his hands form the table), making direct eye contact with me as he shook his big, black wigs out. They were so dark compared to my tawny brown ones. Not to mention, they were huge, stretching across the entire length of the room. I started toward him with my hand out. Then stopping in front of him, I realized how I'd feel if someone touched my wings without permission.

"Can I . . . touch them?" I asked in a daze.

I think I was the first person to ever ask first. He nodded. Carefully I ran my fingers along them. They were soft, just like mine. I was just about to ask how fast he could fly when _yank_!

"Ow!" I yelped, jumping away from him.

I had gotten close enough that he could pluck a feather out. I was beginning to think I was a real moron for making that deal with him.

"What was that for? I demanded.

He shook his head, staring at the feather in disbelief. The corners of his mouth turned down.

"I had to make sure they were real."

"Oh, yes. They're very real," I grabbed the feather from him, "now are you going to honor our agreement or not?"

"Yes," he affirmed.

"Good," I replied, walking back to the chair (being a full head taller than me it was intimidating to stand in front of him). "As you probably already know, I'm Max. You never told me your name."

"I don't have a name," he countered, sitting back down as well.

"Bullshat," I called him out, "you must have given yourself a name at some point. Look, I named myself Maximum Ride, so I have no room to judge in the name department."

He tilted his head a fraction before answering. I wondered what expression it was replacing. "Fine. It's Fang then."

"Okay Fang," I tried it out, "why don't you want to be here?"

He stared at me incredulously, "2 men wearing lab coats kidnapped me in the middle of the night."

I nodded, I could see how that would be alarming. "But you're safe here," I assured him. "I've been safe here for 8 years and they have found me out yet." Knock on wood.

"I don't know that."

"Well I hope one day you will," my features softened, "Jeb brought you here to give you a better life, like he did for me. It's gotta be better than the School at least." I pointed to the bed, "they didn't have beds there. At least if they did, I couldn't see them from my dog cage."

He tilted his head again.

"All I'm saying is give it a chance. If you don't like it here I'm sure Jeb will let you go wherever you want."

He said nothing.

I stood handing him my feather, "so you remember our agreement."

Then I walked out, letting my words hang in the air along with our agreement.


	4. I Don't Know What Happened

The next few days went relatively okay. Jeb still came to talk to Fang each day, but for the most part he was letting me do things my way. He was still a little apprehensive about me being involved, considering the whole table affair. However, he did acknowledge that I could get more out of Fang in 30 minutes than he could in 2 weeks. Honestly I hadn't a clue what the heck I was doing. For the most part he just sat there listening while I talked; he refused to talk about what happened at the School. I talked about my time at the School and everything they put me through. I talked about actual school, the somewhat less excruciating and slightly more bearable one. I talked about my friends and about Goldie and Jeb.

During more personal stories about the School, like that day, I sometimes talked down to the table. After particularly rough stories I tended to zone out. Suddenly feeling his eyes on me I looked up. He was watching me intensely.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned.

Taken aback by the personal nature of the question I shot back immediately, "what are _you_ thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about what you're thinking about," he countered without missing a beat.

Clever, this one.

I sighed, already seeing how this could go in a circle.

"I was thinking about what would have happened if I had stayed at the school as long as you or . . . what it would be like if Jeb hadn't saved me."

He crossed his arms. Why was he getting ticked off?

"What?" I implored.

"I just don't get it. How can you trust him? He kept you in a dog crate for 8 years."

"He wasn't a part of that. He just analyzed test results," I replied indignantly.

Was he really picking a fight with me over _Jeb_? The man who had saved me from being "retired"?

"So he sat back and let _them_ torture you. That's just as bad."

Oh, ho, ho. That was it!

I stood, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. How dare he insult the man that had saved him too!

"Well he's changed!" I practically shouted, "Things are different now! He practically treats me like I'm his own daughter."

"If you truly think that then you're a fool. People like that don't change. He was evil then and I'm sure he's still evil now."

First I just stood there in shock. Then before I knew it, my feet were carrying my swiftly to the other side of the table.

"How dare you!" I was yelling now, "If it wasn't for Jeb you'd still being stuck in that stupid place!"

I swear steam was coming out of my ears at that point. Yet, he had the nerve to look me dead in the eyes and say, "at least they're honest about being evil there."

I whipped my hand back so fast I could have broken the sound barrier. I was just about to slap him with everything I had, but for a split second I looked at his face. He didn't flinch. He didn't turn his face. This was the face of a person that had been beaten so many times that a slap was nothing. Suddenly I felt very, very . . . sad, because in the back of my mind I had always wondered how Jeb could have let me be experimented on for so long and done nothing.

I felt the anger fizzle out in an instant and before I knew what I was doing, what I would come to call "I don't know what happened" happened. Leaning forward I closed my eyes and kissed Fang.

Right on the lips.

The first time I had ever kissed somebody, and they were handcuffed to a freaking table.

Great. Just great.

When I pulled back I was met by his shocked face. Literally shocked to the core doesn't begin to cover it. He was legitimately petrified. Dark eyes wide open, not even breathing. I had the succinct feeling that he hadn't closed his eyes when my lips touched his. I was also pretty sure that he'd never been kissed before. I wondered if the school had planned to eventually make him hate the sensation of kissing. Maybe they had been working on it before he got away. Either way, he didn't look happy.

Fang continued to star at me, pupils blown to pinpricks. That's when I realized I was still in his breathing space. My mouth opened, just as a blush started to creep up my neck, to say what? Sorry? Uh, not after all the things he just said to me. The kiss seemed like punishment enough. Instead I turned on my heel and practically speed walked out of the room.

Jeb was at the bottom of the stairs, brow furrowed.

"What happened in there?" he asked seriously.

The blush warmed my cheeks, wishing he hadn't seen what he had. "I don't want to talk about it," I muttered, rushing past him and into my room.

Never the less the question bounced around in my head.

What had happened in there?


	5. Again

The next day I was back at it again. Numerous times I considered waiting a few days to let it all blow over. Then I remembered his face when after I kissed him. There was no way he was going to just let this "blow over". Might as well face him sooner rather than later. Not to mention, not coming back to bother him after what he said about Jeb seemed like letting him win, and boy do I hate to lose.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Jeb requested as he shut Fang's door behind him.

"Yes."

"And no more funny business I hope?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Jeb!" I exclaimed, almost going red, "NO! I mean no. That was like a weird teenage girl-woman-hormone-thingy or whatever the crap guys say. It won't happen again. I want to help Fang, not date him."

Jeb sighed in the way that only practically dads of mutant teenage bird girls can. Which is to say, very heavily.

He patted my shoulder, "good luck. He seems particularly . . . moody today."

Goody, something to look forward to.

I walked in and sat down. He didn't look at me. I cleared my throat. Still his head was turned away. Well so much for this not being awkward.

I thought about what to say, and finally something witty and clever came out, "hi."

Nothing.

He just sat there looking like a statue on display. A real annoying statue called Mr. Broody Britches.

Still, I tried again, "Fang."

Silence.

Well on the upside, at least he hadn't reverted to crushing my diaphragm with the table again.

"Look," I offered, trying to sound genuine and not super annoyed, "I'm sorry I kissed you out of the blue like that. It wasn't right."

Would it really kill him to say one word? Just one?

Well fine! I could see that he wasn't going to accept my apology or talk to me or even listen while I talked. I mean, he wouldn't even look at me. I had half a mind to kick him under the table. Couldn't he see that I was trying to make things better?

With a huff I walked out and walked back in with a book. Propping my feet up on the table I leaned back in my chair and began to read.

"If you think not talking to me will make me go away then you are sadly mistaken," I told him without looking up.

Moody Judy didn't respond.

This was going to be a long couple of days.

* * *

After about a week, I walked into his room, book in hand, as usual, to find him clasping his hands in front of him. Well look who was looking at me again.

"Alas," I declared, taking a seat, "the great Fang returns from Broodsville."

"I want to make another deal," he said, ignoring my comment.

"Oh? And what makes you think I want to make a deal with you?"

"I want Jeb to stop handcuffing me, and I want to have that security camera taken out. It makes me feel like I'm back at the School."

"What do I get?" I wondered suspiciously. Better be something good.

He shifted his hands, but I could tell he'd thought a lot about this. "I'll tell you more about my time at the school."

"Deal," I agreed instantly.

Jeb came in with the handcuff key a moment later, coming to a stop beside Fang.

"Before I do this you have to promise me something. I know you already promised Max, but you have to promise me too. Swear to me you won't hurt her again."

Fang looked up at his hard stare. "I promise," he swore looking right at me, before turning back to Jeb.

Jeb stared a moment longer before undoing the cuffs. Afterwards he tilted the security camera down.

"I'll take that out after you're done," he explained before leaving the room.

Fang simply rubbed his wrists, looking the scars there from the School. I waited patiently, knowing how hard it was to open up about the School. Finally he let out a long breath, and began to tell his story.

* * *

Over the next few weeks I pieced together his life at the School. It was lonely and painful, just like mine. There were some days that he couldn't bring himself to talk about it, and I didn't push it, I let him tell me what he wanted to. What he hated to talk about the most was the Program. If he talked about it at all, he waited till the very end, eyes cast down to his hands every time.

Fang had been staying with us almost four months by that time, and had made good on all his promises, so Jeb started to leave his door unlocked. The only rule Fang had really was that he couldn't go outside. We couldn't risk someone seeing him. We tried to get him to come down and eat with us or watch movies or play games, but he never would. Even though I practically freaking _begged_ him to.

One day in particular I was hell bent on getting him to come down for dinner.

"We're having spaghetti, will you come downstairs and eat with us? Just for like, once in your life. It won't kill you to walk down those stairs. It's not like we're going to sit around the table holding hands and singing _Kumbaya_."

He shook his head.

"Do you want to be a shut-in forever or what?" I implored.

"Maybe."

Ughhh, I'd never met someone so irritating! I swear, he made me want to pull my hair out. "What can I do to make you come down there?" I demanded vehemently.

He looked at me straight forward, "I'll make you a deal."

Sheesh, what was with the people in this house and making deals? We could join the FBI and make our own negotiation squad.

"Yes?"

"I'll come downstairs."

This was sounding too good to be true.

"Okay. And what do you want from me?" I prompted.

He paused, looking at the spot just above my head before meeting my eyes again. I was suddenly aware that this was not a spur of the moment deal. He had spent some time thinking about this. His face was carefully blank.

"I want you to kiss me again."

My cheeks flared. He was kidding right?

" _Excuse me_?" I sputtered, "You're making fun of me aren't you?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

I was dumbfounded. I thought he had hated kissing me.

"No," I refused.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Because those are not equal things, that's why!"

He said nothing, and I didn't know what to say, so I rushed out of the room, trying not to sprint.

Why would he want to kiss me again?

* * *

That night I heard it again, the muffled yells coming from above me, like I did most nights. Fang was having a nightmare again. About the school most likely. Despite the awkwardness of the day I pushed the covers off and went to get him a glass of water. I had never come to check on him before, assuming that he'd prefer that I didn't, but after today, I don't know. It felt like something I should have done a lot sooner.

I could hear his heavy breathing as I cautiously entered the room. With my mutant vision and all, I could perfectly see him sitting up in bead, leaning against the headboard. He looked at me upon hearing my footsteps, and although I'm sure he had mutant vision too, he turned his lamp on.

"Here," I offered, holding the glass out to him.

He took a drink before putting on his bedside table. "Thanks."

I nodded and tentatively sat on the edge of his bed.

"About the School?" I guessed.

He nodded in confirmation.

"I have those dreams too. They're so real too, like I'm actually back there."

"I know," he murmured, "I hear you sometimes."

"Oh," I replied. I didn't know that.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. I couldn't sleep." He was still looking at the wall in front of him. "They get better," I assured him, "it takes years, but they come less. I only got them every so often until . . ."

"Until you told me about your time there," he finished for me.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," he condoled, finally looking at me.

Sorry? That was a word I'd never heard from him before.

I shrugged. "It's not your fault. I chose to share that with you."

"Why?" his eyebrows dipped a bit, "I mean, I get why Jeb tries to talk to me, he wants to make sure I'm sane enough to be around you. But you . . . why do you even bother?"

"Because we're the same," I replied earnestly, slipping my wings out and then back in.

His face softened and he slowly shook his head. "You're far better than me."

"That's not true. I'm just as stubborn and strong-headed as you."

"Maybe, but you didn't hit me with a table."

I laughed softly, rubbing the scar, "you got me there."

"I'm sorry for that by the way. And for what I said about Jeb. He does love you, and I can see why."

2 sorrys in 1 day? Was it Christmas already?

Wait what was that other bit? 'I can see why'?

Oh boy.

"He loves you too you know?" I told Fang.

He looked taken aback, as if he couldn't fathom anyone ever loving him.

And that was it.

Suddenly there was nothing I wanted more than for him to be a bigger part of my life. For him to know that he was wanted here. For him to know that he mattered.

"Fang?" I said.

"Hmm?"

"Is your deal still open?"

He stilled, eyes searching mine. "Yes."

"Then deal," I whispered scooting closer.

It was different this time. This time I leaned in slowly. This time he looked at me in what could only be called anticipation. This time his eyes fluttered closed. Taking a deep mental breath, I closed my eyes and closed the distance between us. He might have been a hard person, but his lips were soft. After a moment we pulled apart, just inches from each other. My heart beat against my ribcage like a caged animal. Then by some unspoken agreeance, we came together again. For a second I thought he was going to pull away, but then he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Before I knew it his tongue was in my mouth, gently caressing mine, exploring my mouth. Mine met his and we were _really_ making out now.

It was just, wow.

I couldn't help it. His lips were moving against mine, and I just slipped my arms around his shoulders, my fingers sinking into his hair that was just as soft as his lips. I was feeling warm and perfect, but we had to pull apart for air. We were staring into each other's eyes when suddenly his breath hitched. He froze.

What was wrong?

Oh, I pulled my arms from his shoulders. "Sorry," I breathed.

He relaxed again, "it's okay. Actually . . . I want to try something."

His hand hesitantly came up to cup my cheeks. "Is this okay?"

I nodded, his warm hands moving with me. He swallowed.

"It's alright," I murmured.

This was a big step, I knew how much he hated to touch people.

He let out a long breath as if he couldn't believe he was touching me. His thumbs made slow circular movements over my flushed cheeks. His eyes flicked to the scar on my forehead, before quickly flicking away. Then his hands slipped to my neck. They continued to slip down to my shoulders and down my arms, thumbs brushing over a scar every time they found one. A shiver ran down my spine as his thumbs brushed my collar bones. I sat completely still. Finally he got to my hands and reclaimed his own.

"Your turn," I said.

He stiffened. More than anything, he hated to be touched. As he was protesting I grabbed his hands. I started small, just having his palms lay against mine, eyes never straying from his. I gently rubbed the inside of his wrists with my fingers then, very slowly, I trailed them up his arms. I watched his chest move up and down.

"Relax."

He nodded, but was still pretty rigid. I was cupping his cheeks now. He stared into my eyes as I stared into his.

"You'll get through this," I reassured him. "Now, try to get some sleep."

I got up, and as I opened the door I heard, "thank you."

I turned back and smiled at him one last time. I was half way out the door when I remembered something.

"See you at breakfast tomorrow."

A deal is a deal after all.


	6. Goldie

"If you mix that anymore we're going to have soup instead of pancakes."

"Huh?" I questioned looking at Jeb. Oh, I had mixed the pancake batter till it was runny. It was Sunday morning and we were making pancakes as usual. "Sorry." I handed him the bowl.

"Everything okay?" he inquired in that dad voice of his.

If by okay he meant mentally freaking out about making out with the mutant prisoner we kept in the attic, then yeah. I was great. Just peachy.

I offered a smile, "yep."

Last night hadn't been a mistake, had it?

I really didn't want things to be awkward between Fang and I now. What if he stopped speaking to me again? I would just die if he regretted it. Geez. What kind of emotional teenager had I turned into?

Get a grip! Screw him if he regretted it, I told myself.

Suddenly I heard a door squeak open and I knew I didn't regret a thing. He walked down the stairs and stopped at the bottom step. He stood there, looking toward the kitchen as if he was a little kid again and the floor was made of lava. Jeb turned in surprise. He glanced over at me, guessing I had something to do with it. If only he knew.

"Fang," he said with a pleased smile, "come on in. We're making pancakes."

Slowly Fang made his way into the kitchen. He stood there, looking around, looking as if he rather be at the dentist. Not that he knew what that was like.

"You can sit down," I told him, trying not to laugh at his discomfort.

Then I remembered. He probably had never sat down at a kitchen table to eat breakfast before. Well that was depressing. We'd have to fix that.

The morning went on like that. Jeb and I chatting while Fang sat at the table, observing us from his wooden chair, looking both out of place and completely right.

"Fang, do you want to help me set the table?" I asked, trying to include him.

"Sure."

He stared at me, and as we locked eyes scenes from last night began flashing into my mind.

Oh dear.

I cleared my throat. "Can you grab the plates? They're in the cabinet above the toaster." As I put the cups and silverware on the table I watched him stand hesitantly in front of the cabinet before opening it.

"Which . . ." he trailed off looking at all the plates.

"The ones on the bottom shelf are fine."

Upon sitting down again he looked relieved that he didn't have to touch anymore of our stuff.

"This house is yours too now," I reminded him.

"That's right," Jeb agreed mid pancake flip.

Fang just looked between us, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"What do you want to drink? We have milk, water, orange juice, coffee . . ."

"Um, juice I guess."

I poured him some and put in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, taking a sip.

I wondered if it was weird for him to choose what he drank. I mean, they didn't exactly hand out menus during meal time at the School. He never would say what he wanted to eat or drink here either so we just gave him water and a lot of whatever we were eating. That gave me an idea.

"What do you want to eat for dinner?" I asked, taking a seat next to him.

He stared back at me, and for a second I thought he'd ask, 'me?'

"Um, whatever."

"We could have spaghetti or pizza or hamburgers or tacos or anything else you want."

He thought for a moment, "pizza I guess."

"Can you watch the pancakes? You too Fang. She burns them every time."

"Hey!" I called out indignantly, "I do not!" Fang made a noise that was almost a chuckle. "It's harder than it looks," I insisted.

"Oh, and you might want to let Goldie in," Jeb relayed as he walked toward the bathroom.

Grumbling to myself I opened the glass door that leads out to the backyard. In ran Goldie. She ran around me, tail wagging, before running toward Fang. Before I knew it his leg shot out and he kicked her square in the chest. She ran back towards me with a whimper.

Oh. My. Gosh.

I _know_ he didn't just kick _my_ dog.

" _Did you just kick my dog_?!" I shrieked, voice kicking to a higher octave in shock.

He looked guiltily at me and then Goldie. "I jus- I'm sorry. I didn't me-"

" _What is wrong with you_?" I cut in, hugging Goldie around the neck. She licked my face seeming to have already forgotten. That just made me more livid.

Okay Max, I said. Get it together. I took a deep breath. I didn't want to make a big scene and ruin his first time downstairs. Maybe he had a good reason.

He better.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you don't like dogs." I shouldn't have just let Goldie in like that. I had been a bad dog owner.

"It's not that I don't like dogs it's just . . . they made me do some things. To dogs . . ." he got a spacey look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said again.

They made him kill dogs? That was just, just terrible! I held Goldie close.

"I know," he really was sorry. I scratched Goldie behind the ear before leading her by the collar to her box. When I got back Fang was standing next to the griddle a spatula in hand.

Well that was a strange image.

"Sorry," he was saying to Jeb, my was that a popular word for him lately, "I think they were burning."

"No, no, it's perfectly alright," Jeb replied cheerfully. "Everything alright Max?" he wondered as I slumped into a chair.

"Yeah," but it wasn't. I should've known the School would stoop so low. God. Who knows what other creatures they tortured besides kids? I had lost my appetite, which was saying something. I could eat more than Jeb. So with me not eating, and Fang not talking and Jeb trying to make small talk, you can pretty much assume that Fang's first day downstairs didn't go that well.

So much for pancake Sunday.

* * *

That night Jeb went and got pizza. Two boxes for me, two for Fang, and one for himself. Fang didn't come down stairs even though I was sure he could smell the pizza.

"Maybe he's asleep," I suggested to Jeb, "I'll go get him."

"Fang?" I called out as I entered his room. The light was on, and he was on his bed, laying on his side, facing away from the door. "Are you coming down for dinner?" I asked, unsure if he was asleep.

"No," he said softly. He didn't sound like himself.

"Is everything okay?" I replied, my voice sounding strange in my own ears.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories earlier with Goldie."

"I know."

"She'll be okay."

"I know."

It was clear he was done with downstairs for today.

"Whatever they made you do, that wasn't you. You had to choose between the animals' lives and yours and you chose yours. And that's okay."

He said nothing.

"You don't have to choose anymore. You don't have to be that person anymore."

"I miss it sometimes," he whispered, "sometimes I actually miss that God forsaken place."

"You lived there your whole life," I reasoned. I knew who hard it was to transition. This new world was so hard to adjust to. So confusing. At first I had missed that horrible place sometimes too. But not anymore. And one day, neither would he.

He sounded so sad, so lonely. He truly felt all alone I realized. I had sensed it earlier. He felt alone, even sitting there with Jeb and me. And I didn't know how to make it better. I didn't know how to tell him that I was there for him. I would just have to show him.

"Do you want me to get you some pizza?"

He said nothing.

I left some pizza and a glass of water on the table for him.

"It gets better," I told him. "It really does."

* * *

That night I woke from a terrible nightmare. Sighing, I got up to get a glass of water. That was weird, where was Goldie? I frowned, going out into the hallway. Usually she slept in the dog bed at the foot of my bed. I walked around the house looking for her. Jeb's door was shut, so that was out. She wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen or the living room or even outside. Suddenly I looked up to see that Fang's door was open. That was weird. He didn't leave his door open. A weird feeling washed over me. A spark of heat ran through my chest as I quietly trekked up the stairs.

My palms started to sweat as I pushed his door open all the way. I poked my head around the door, peaking into the pitch black room. And there she was. Just lying there. Still as anything.

Her head rested on his stomach as it moved up and down, up and down. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. I must have left his door open a crack earlier. Goldie sometimes did that to me after I had a bad dream. She looked peaceful and so did he. I wondered if maybe I should call her off of him. However, I found it hard to believe that he didn't know Goldie was there. She had forgiven him for the kick and jumped into bed with him without a second thought. That means he had accepted her. At least for the night. I smiled watching them. Here I was thinking that we hadn't made any progress today.

That was my Goldie.

* * *

Jeb started going back to the office that week. That means Fang was at home by himself until I got home. Tuesday I got home to a surprise. I walked into the living room to find Fang asleep on the couch. That was a first. I wish I got to stay home and sleep. Anyways, not only that, but Goldie was laying with him again. She was laying right next to him, his arm slung loosely around her. Well that was adorable.

Goldie opened her eyes. She wagged her tail excitedly, accidentally thumping it against Fang's legs.

"Goldie!" I whispered. It was too late though, Fang shifted. "Sorry," I apologized, petting her head. "I guess you guys are friends now," I said crouching so I could pet her head.

"Yeah," he replied, voice thick from sleep. I bit back a grin at his rumpled hair. I felt his eyes on me as I kissed her on the head and left to do my homework.

"Where's my kiss?" he called lazily from the couch.

I froze.

 _What_?

Oh, he was just kidding; he was just doing this to get a rise out of me I realized. Hmph.

"Sorry, Sleeping Beauty," I replied without looking back, "I'd rather kiss my dog."

His soft laughter trailed after me.


	7. Shock Therapy

**Sorry for the long wait! Please forgive me T-T**

Fang and I were downstairs watching some action movie, _The Bourne Identity_ I think, that night. Like me, he found it both confusing and entertaining. For the most part I enjoyed watching him react minutely to the movie more than the actual movie. An action sequence was taking place when a devious thought plopped into my head. I reached my hand out from under the blanket I was curled up in and slipped it into his where it lay beside him on the couch. His response was immediate. His back stiffened and he turned his head to look at me curiously. Which is to say his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. I arched a defiant eyebrow back at him.

If you're thinking this was a casually romantic gesture than you are quite wrong. I was getting back at him for the "where's my kiss?" comment earlier. He seemed to grasp this too after a blink and a moment. A slow grin fought and finally won out a place on his face.

"If you think this is punishment then you need serious psychiatric help."

I gently tightened my grip with a squeeze. His smile tightened as well in effort and concentration, but he actually managed to relax. Then he stared at me equally as defiant and even retaliated with a light squeeze of his own. I took it to another level and slipped my fingers between his. He followed me up by pulling our entwined hands into his lap, before turning to the movie once more like it was nothing. Gotta admit, didn't see that one coming. I gazed at the T.V. through unseeing eyes, unable to pull my thoughts away from my hand nestled in his. My hand was comfortably warm, and the way our hands were positioned I could feel every time he took a breath. In and out, in-

 _ **Buzzzzz!**_

I jumped, fingers reflexively tightening around Fang's. I gave a short laugh. It was just my phone vibrating against the coffee table. It was Jeb.

Awkward.

"Hey Jeb," I answered trying not to sound like I was just thinking about how nice Fang felt.

"Hey, Max. Everything good?"

"Uh, yeah, why do you ask?" I sneaked a peek at fang who just happened to be looking at me at the moment. I looked away.

"You just sound strange that's all."

I cleared my throat. "Oh, well I just had a-," I wracked my brain, "tickle in my throat, but it's gone now." Tickle in my throat?

"Oh, okay. So what are and Fang up to?"

I glanced at our hands. "Just watching a movie."

"That's fun. I'm glad you got him to come downstairs."

"Me too," I agreed, glancing sideways at Fang again who was looking politely at the T.V. even though I knew he could hear every word Jeb was saying thanks to his mutant hearing.

"Well, I hate to ask, but would you mind making dinner tonight? I'm probably going to be here for another hour."

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was already 9:30. "Sure. No problem."

"Thanks, Max. See you soon. Tell Fang I said hi."

"Sure will."

I turned to Fang after we hung up. "Looks like we're making dinner."

"We are?" he asked, feigning surprise.

I grinned, "Yeah. Oh, and Jeb says hi." I led him into the kitchen, our hands still intertwined.

"So what are we making?" Fang asked, leaning against the counter.

"I'm thinking spaghetti."

"What's with you and spaghetti?"

"It's easy to make."

He snorted. "I forgot you were a deficient cook."

I put my hands on my hips. "I'll have you know that I cook plenty. Besides, who wants to be a fembot anyways?"

He put his hands up mock-defensively. "Well, I haven't really ever cooked anything, so I'm not one to talk."

"Well, it's your lucky day," I replied thrusting a tomato into his hand. "Just chop this while I get the water boiling. The knives are over there and the cutting board is right there." I pointed.

When I finished I turned around to find Fang just standing there, knife in hand. He had cut the tomato in half and was now staring blankly down at the cutting board.

"Fang?" I asked.

What was he doing? I walked over to see his white knuckled grip.

"Fang?" I asked, softly shaking his shoulder.

His body jolted at the touch and he turned to face me. He blinked, eyebrows converging as he looked from me to the knife that was now pointing at me. Had he been having a flashback about using a knife?

"Maybe I should cut the tomatoes," I grabbed the knife handle, not taking my eyes off of his. "You can heat up the tomato sauce."

He nodded, letting go instantly. I told him where to get a pan and what to set the stove on.

"I see what you did there," I joked as I dumped the diced tomatoes into the store bought sauce. "You were trying to make the woman do all the cooking. How very sexist of you."

My attempt at lightening the mood worked and Fang chuckled softly.

As we were putting the store bought garlic bread on a cookie sheet he asked, "So does Jeb work late a lot?" He didn't know since Jeb had worked at home until recently.

"Yeah . . ." I conceited with a sigh, placing the sheet in the oven, "he's a busy guy."

"Must have been lonely."

I looked up in surprise. It had been, coming home from school and being by myself for 4 to 5 hours almost every day.

"Yeah . . ." I said again, "but you're here now."

His face was very soft as he smiled his lop-sided smile, the knife incident seemingly forgotten, "Yeah, I'm here now."

* * *

As you know, Fang is not what you would call a touchy-feely kind of person. I mean, neither am I, but he made me look like one of those people who walk around with 'free hug' signs. So I decided that maybe that's exactly what he needed. He needed what I liked to call shock therapy. Whenever Jeb wasn't around I had taken to sneaking up behind Fang, hugging him, and running away. The first few times he did nothing, but he somehow figured out that I was ticklish, and well, you can guess how he started retaliating.

That's why when I came home to find Fang asleep in his bed, I decided to get payback. I tiptoed across the floor, fingers stretched out, ready to tickle him. Though, I doubted he was even ticklish. However, before I even skimmed the fabric of his shirt, he twisted to face me, grabbing my wrists and pulling me onto his bed. Faker!

"Ah!" I squealed.

Sensing what was coming I tried to squirm out of his iron grip. Finally he pinned me down. That's when he began tickling me mercilessly. The bastard. He knew exactly where I was ticklish too! He rendered my limbs useless as I was laughing so much I could only curl into a ball and try to block him. When I was on the verge of tears from laughing so much, he let up. He loomed above me, grinning triumphantly. Seeing my forfeit Fang began leaning back, lifting his hands from beside my head, where they held him up. My scheming brain conjured a mischievous and just overall bad idea. Before I could think better of it though, my body launched into it.

My legs came up wrapping around his waist. His eyes grew wide as his arms faltered and he was now leaning on his elbows. Our faces were now significantly closer. He was also as stiff as a board.

"Max . . . what are you doing?" he questioned.

"Shock therapy," I answered with a sly smile, "Is it working?"

"I'll let you know," he said, dark hair hanging around his face.

He was still too far away. Not taking my eyes off his, I linked my arms around his neck and pulled him down. His breath left him in a surprised 'oof".

"Relax," I told him.

I could practically feel the tension rolling off his shoulders. I rubbed slow circles into his back until I felt him relax into me. It was . . . strange. As I laid beneath him I realized I could feel all of him against me. Strange, but nice. His warmth pleasantly trapping me between him and the bed. Shifting, I tightened my legs around him. His breath hitched. This seemed to be too much for him and his face found sanctuary between my neck and shoulder. My skin tingled from his breath. A shiver went down my spine. I looked at the white ceiling as I listened to his quiet breathing. He must have already been on sensory overload, but for the life of me I couldn't stop think about kissing him. He shifted a little, lips brushing my neck and I closed my eyes against the feeling. I didn't mean to push him, but my fingers found their way into his raven hair.

After playing with his hair a bit, it seemed he could take no more. He lifted his head and I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me. It seems he was done with shock therapy. I thought he was going to untangle himself, but he didn't. No, instead he leaned in closer and closer until his lips touched mine. At first they were soft, then they grew more urgent with every passing second. Nothing could compare to be wrapped up in him while he kissed me. The blood seemed to buzz in my veins, and a fire started in the pit of my stomach, spreading like wildfire to the rest of me.

He was kissing along my jaw now and down my neck. My fingers curled into his shirt. I couldn't help the soft noise from rising in the back of my throat as he kissed along my collar bone. That was rather embarrassing. I stiffened, wondering if he was going to pull back. He didn't. This only seemed to spur him on. He moved on to my shoulder, moving the strap of my tank top so that he could kiss it fully. I shifted my legs again and was rewarded with a sound from him as well. My fingers gently pulled on his hair as I felt it rumble softly against my shoulder.

His mouth hungrily reclaimed mine and I gladly accepted it. Then somehow we rolled and now I was on top. Our legs tangled and his arms encircled me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. Did he feel like he was on fire like I did?

The fire burned between us until our labored breathing became too much. I shifted so that I was lying beside him now. He rolled onto his side that we were facing each other. He slipped his arm around my waist as if not touching me would break our spell. His cheeks were brilliantly colored, but what got me more was his smile. It resonated deeply within his eyes. His onyx eyes shown with happiness and my heart contracted. I felt even more breathless if that was possible.

"Shocked?" I asked.

"Something like that," he grinned.


	8. Mr Chameleon and Mrs Shooting Star

Fang's POV

I never thought that I would ever be so happy that I wouldn't mind dying. Then again, I never really thought I'd ever be happy. But I was. And in that moment I wouldn't have minded never waking up. It was a Sunday and Jeb was away on a business conference, so Max and I decided to watch a movie. I heard her footfalls on the stairs before she knocked on the door. She never used to knock, but then one time she flung the door open just as I was zipping up my jeans. I continued to button my pants while she just stood there, a flush spreading across her cheeks like ink in water. It wasn't until I reached for my shirt that she finally chocked out that dinner was ready and fled, nearly slamming the door behind her. I kinda liked her barging in though. Yet it was nice that she knocked too, like she respected my privacy, that this room was my personal space.

Anyway, I sat down on my bed and patted the spot next to me. She didn't lay down until I did, putting her laptop half on her lap and half on mine. We watched a comedy. I didn't get all of the jokes, but I liked it because I got to hear her laugh. I don't know how to describe it other than it was like music. I had never thought of laughter as beautiful. Hers is. And her joy is just as infectious.

At one point, she got the blanket off the foot of my bed and put it over us. Sunlight was drifting in through the window, pooling on the floor. I was warm and comfortable and getting tired. That's when her head rolled onto my shoulder.

"Max?" I said looking over at her.

She was fast asleep. I froze, wondering if I should wake her up. Instantly I rejected the thought. I could no more wake her up than I could push her off the bed. Trying to keep my shoulder still, I picked up that laptop and set it on my bedside table. When I settled back against the bed she rolled to her side, arm slinging across me. I stiffened. Was it possible to get used to such a nice feeling? I wrapped my arm tentatively around her back and distantly mused that this was not what Jeb had in mind when he told me he wanted Max and I to get along.

Somewhere where my thoughts mingled with dreams I realized I was squeezing her a bit. I was going to let go, when she curled her fingers into my shirt and snuggled closer. I'm not sure if I dreamed it, but my chest contracted in a strange pain. I had always welcomed pain. At least it meant I felt something, that I was human. That I wasn't just some experiment. This pain though, it was pleasant. Like my heart was simultaneously pulled apart and put back together. This strange feeling floated with me, like a stream into a river, into unconsciousness.

* * *

Max's POV

Fang had been with us for 6 months now. They were easily the happiest 6 months of my life. If not the happiest, at least the most interesting. Today we were giving Goldie a bath. He was leaning against the counter as I filled the tub.

"Fang," I asked, "why do you always wear black?"

Jeb and I had bought him several different colored shirts, but he only wore the black ones. I mean having a favorite color was one thing, but always wearing it is another.

"For camouflaging," he responded walking over to the wall. He stood completely still and suddenly he just went poof! I blinked. I blinked some more. He freaking vanished into thin air! I spun all around, momentarily forgetting about the bath.

"Fang? Fang! Where are you!?"

He chuckled appearing starkly against the dark expresso wall.

" _What the heck was that_?" I exclaimed jumping to my feet.

His eyebrows dipped. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? You just freaking disappeared!"

" . . . You can't do that?" he asked sounding genuinely surprised.

"Nooo. Nope, defiantly not."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Huh," was all he said, face still pensive.

There was a gurgling noise behind me. I spun around turning the bath off before it overfilled.

"Goldie!" I called.

Her nails clicked on the wood floors, coming to a stop at the bathroom entrance.

"Did I mention she hates baths? We're going to have to pick her up."

Fang nodded our previous conversation seemingly forgotten. Gently placing an arm under her stomach and one across her chest, he picked her up. I shut the door in case she tried to make a break for it. She would too. She whined pitifully as he put her in the water, trying to jump right out. I grabbed her collar just in time.

"You smell," I told her, "and smelly dogs don't get to sleep in my bed."

She pouted, giving me the stink eye.

"Yes, I know. I'm a terrible, terrible person for making you clean."

I suddenly remembered Fang was there. I turned to find him watching the exchange with a lopsided smile.

"Heh. So, do you want to wash her while I make sure she doesn't escape?"

"Okay, just tell me what to do," he agreed.

* * *

Man was that an image. I was trying not to stare, but the whole situation was very . . . intriguing. Here was Fang, somewhat standoffish, dark, and quiet, kneeling on the bathroom floor washing my dog. He was leaning over the tub, sleeves rolled up, bubbles covering his hands. I was trying not to admire his profile or the way the muscles in his forearm moved as he pumped more soap into his hands. Overall, I just got the strong urge to kiss him. His sleeve began to slip down his arm. I watched as he tried unsuccessfully to pull it up without using his hands.

"Here," I offered, trying to ignore the feel of his skin as I pushed the fabric up to his bicep. He has nice biceps. Scratch that, I'm pretty sure he has nice everything.

"Thanks," he said without looking at me.

"So," I drew out to distract myself, "how long have you been able to do that?"

He looked over at me then, "hmm?"

"The chameleon thing."

He thought for a second. "A few weeks before I left the School." A grin came over his face. "I almost escaped because of it, but they caught me and put me in a room with heat sensors." After a pause he said, "you can't do anything weird?"

Now I contemplated, scratching Goldie between the ears. "Maybe . . . can you fly really fast?"

"How fast is really fast?"

"200 mph."

His head turned. "Seriously?"

I nodded.

"What's that like?"

I smiled. "It's like nothing can stop me, like, like I'm a shooting star or something." I shook my head, laughing. "That sounds ridiculous, but it's true."

I looked over to find with a small smile on his face. "I'd like to see it sometime."

I could feel the smile fall from my face as I turned away. "I'm not . . . really supposed to. It's too dangerous."

"Jeb doesn't let you fly?" Fang asked incredulously.

"No, he does," I sighed. "He takes me on trips sometimes."

"But not anymore?"

"Well . . ." I began, not wanting him to feel bad, "we can't really leave the house."

"Because of me?" he asked. His voice had a tint to it.

I nodded. "Something like that."

"You leave me alone when you go to school and when Jeb goes to work."

"Yeah . . . but that's for hours, not days. Anyways, I wonder why we can do different things?" I said, trying to change the subject.

"He still doesn't trust me." Fang said his voice hard.

"No, that's not it," I sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder so that he would have to look at me. "We can't exactly take you with us in case they're still looking for you, and we don't want you to be alone like you used to be."

Fang's POV

I really was a sh*tty person. How had I never even considered what it cost her, what it cost both of them to have me at the house? They couldn't have people over. Max couldn't go flying. Jeb had to give up the safety he had worked so hard to build for his adopted daughter. I really was an ungrateful brat.

I had seen her, seen Max, carefully close all the blinds and walk around with her wings out. Sometimes she would pace across the house, like a caged bird. I thought she just felt confined from hiding her wings at school. I felt the same way she did. My wings ached to flap, to move, to serve their purpose.

"I'm sorry," I told her, "I want you to go. I'll be okay for a few days. I can take care of myself."

"I know," she said with a sad smile, "but I wouldn't enjoy it if I knew you were stuck here. Besides, when it's been long enough we can go together."

I had to fix this. I would have to talk to Jeb about it. Speak of the devil. Suddenly the door opened and Jeb said, "there you both are."

I guess Goldie saw her opportunity and went for it. She jumped out of the tub like a runner over a hurdle, knocking Max and I over in the process. She proceeded to soak us further by shaking out her fur. Soap and water splattered the walls.

"Ah!" Max squealed, which is saying something, because she only squeals when I tickle her.

Goldie continued her path of total destruction by running past Jeb who tried to stop her, unsuccessfully, almost toppling over in the process.

"Goldie! Stop!" Jeb hollered, scrambling after her.

Max and I looked at each other before bursting out laughing. Her elbow was in a puddle and she had bubbles on her cheek. I wiped them off with my thumb. She smiled wiping away some bubbles from my hair.

"You okay?" I asked, propping my head on my elbow.

"Just soaked," she answered looking down at her shirt.

The whole front of her shirt was wet and sticking to her like a second skin. I promptly looked away. We were pretty close right now. I could really see the soft pink scar peeking out from her hairline.

I ran my thumb over it, "I kind of wish you'd punch me in the face or something."

She looked at me like I was crazy. A devious grin replaced it. "But you have such a nice face."

Max's POV

His eyes widened. I did love to catch him off guard. I leaned toward his handsome face, kissing him. He leaned into me, fingers on my hip pulling me closer. Finally.

"Don't do that!" Jeb's voice drifted in from the living room. "Go outside!"

I chuckled against Fang's mouth. "Mr. Chameleon, I believe we should go rescue Jeb."

"I believe you could be right Mrs. Shooting Star," he murmured against my lips.


	9. Little Things

Fang's POV

I tried talking to him, Jeb, about taking Max flying. He wouldn't listen though. I mean, he let me say what I came in his office to say, sitting there quietly at his desk. But when I had made my case, I could tell there was nothing to be debated.

He fixed me with a sad smile saying, "I want Max to be free to fly too, it's an incredible thing to watch, but it just wouldn't be safe." He took his glasses off and I could see the little lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. Between his thumb and pointer finger he twirled them, simultaneously rubbing his eyes. " . . . she doesn't resent you, you know? She likes having you here. So do I." He smiled, replacing his glasses.

That's the problem I thought. They were both willing to sacrifice things for me. Not only that, but they were happy to do it. The thought made my skin itch. It was too unbalanced. What benefit could I possibly give them? What did I do for them?

Nothing.

I couldn't think of a single thing.

* * *

Max's POV

I almost ran right into Fang when I came swinging around the corner with a laundry basket.

"My bad," I apologized, barely stopping in time.

He shook his head. "You're probably the only person who could turn a laundry basket into a weapon."

"Listen," I said, "I'm just trying to finish all the laundry before the banquet tonight."

Jeb's job was throwing "dinner party" (a bunch of computer nerds getting together to talk about their job wasn't exactly what I'd call a party, but I digress) and he was supposed to bring a guest. I didn't mind when he first asked me to go, I mean, free food and all that, but then he dropped the bomb on me. He actually winced telling me it was a formal party, and that I'd have to wear a dress. I didn't like that _at all,_ but I couldn't disappoint Jeb (he just sounded so excited about it), so of course I agreed. They better have good food.

"Do you want some help?" Fang offered, shoving his monochrome wardrobe into the washing machine.

"Okay," I smiled.

"What do have left?"

"I just have to fold everything," my voice echoed against the dryer walls as I pulled out my clothes. I watched him pour soap in the washer as I cleaned the lint trap. It was a strangely normal gesture. "You know, it's a shame you don't where all white, then I could sneak a red sock into your laundry and make you wear pink."

"I don't think pink's really my color."

I laughed in agreeance. I couldn't even imagine him in all pink, it was so ridiculous. He stood out starkly enough in all black against the pale seafoam green walls.

"You're right. I think you're more of a brooding black than a passionfruit pink," I teased, walking out of the laundry room.

"Max, you dropped something."

"Hmm?" I said, popping back into the room.

He was hold something blue.

My draw dropped. _Ohmygosh._ This was not happening right now.

There in his outstretched hand . . . was my underwear. I felt the blush spread before he even saw it. It's not every day a guy hands you your own underwear. At least not for _me_ anyways. To top it off he looked downright amused. Before I could retrieve my undergarment however, it slipped from his hand in what almost seemed like slow motion. He bent down again.

Somehow the only thing I could manage to say was, "you're a real panty dropper."

He jerked up, head colliding with the open dryer door. Onyx eyes flicked to mine as he rubbed the back of his head. He looked surprised, like a Fang in headlights or something.

"Did you really just say that?"

I sighed, disappointed in myself. "It would appear so."

His lips pressed together, before stretching into a grin. Suddenly he burst out laughing. A deep, thick sound that made my insides feel gooey like raw cookie dough. When he stopped laughing enough to give me back my underwear, I snatched it out of his hands and shoved it deep into my basket. He just shook his head. We made our way into the living room, greeted by the clean laundry I had haphazardly dumped on the sofa. That thing was covered. Fang folded towels while I folded Jeb's clothes and placed them in his room. We folded the blankets together, each grabbing one end and coming together. It was strangely domestic and gave me a comforting feeling, like the one I got when we made dinner together.

However, when I returned from putting the sheets away, the mood had shifted somehow. Fang sat there on the cleared couch, staring blankly out the window. He appeared to just be spacing out, but I think I saw something there.

"Fang?" I asked, "Everything good?"

He blinked a few times before looking at me. A corner of his mouth attempted his lopsided smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

I wish I would have confronted him about it before everything happened.

* * *

"Do I really have to wear these things?" I whined to Jeb from my bedroom. It was bad enough that I had to wear a dress, but heels too? Come on! I was already wearing makeup.

"It's just for a few hours, Max," Jeb's voice drifted encouragingly from his open bedroom door.

"I don't think I can do it," said honestly, walking into the living room as a test run. I was feeling pretty wobbly. God, how do women actually wear these things? Fang was also in the living room playing a videogame, hitting pause when he heard me come in. He looked at me, then looked some more, taking me all in. I was starting to feel self-conscious. This dress was pretty form-fitting, all satiny and red.

"Well?" I brushed non-existent dust off my dress.

Unexpectedly, he walked over to me, closing the distance. "You look beautiful," he said with a smile.

"Thank you," I said, all the while chanting _you will not blush!_ over and over in my head.

I noticed he was still at least 5 inches taller than me in my meager heels. He obviously noticed too, commenting, "You're not that short anymore."

I made a face. "Since when is 5'8 short? Sorry we can't all be six-foot-two giants."

"So now I'm a giant?"

"Only sometimes." I pushed on his shoulders so that we were the same height. "There." He smiled, hands tentatively coming to my waist. "I wish you could come," I told him softly. It seemed the only way to talk when we were standing that close.

"I wish you'd never take off this dress," he said just as softly.

Let's face it. I totally blushing now.

"Do you want me to make you dinner before I go?" I asked, changing the subject oh so smoothly.

Fang smiled, squeezing me gently. "That's okay. Just worry about having fun." Even now, I could still sense the underlying sadness I had felt earlier from him.

I slipped my arms around his neck, flattening all the space between us. He nestled his head into the crook of my neck. Laying my own head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes after a moment. I felt his arms come around me then. The warmth from his body seemed to seep into mine. It was this sort of embrace that made me want to stay home. For a second I pictured changing into something comfy and curling up next to him on the couch while he played videogames. I told him as much.

His chest shook in a small chuckle. "More like you wanting to play and then brutally beating me," he said.

I pulled back a little to see his face, unable to help the grin. I could just barely make out his inky pupils from his irises, all framed with black lashes. Cupping his cheeks, I leaned in, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring the anticipation.

"Max!" I jerked around at the sound of my name, almost falling to my death in the process. I was glad Fang was holding on to me so tightly. "Can you help me with my tie?" Jeb finished from his bedroom.

"Be right there!" I called.

"You and me later?" Fang asked, hands on the small of my back now. I wasn't sure what excited me more; the you and me part or the later part. I nodded, practically swooning in his arms as it was. He kissed my cheek before releasing me, making me even more off-balance than before.

"Oh, that's enough," I muttered to myself, slipping off the torture devices on my way to help my guardian. He really was hopeless sometimes.

* * *

Let me tell you, the first thing I did when I got home was go straight to my room and change my clothes. Once I was comfy again, I washed the makeup off my face and went to find Fang. The diner had been fun, but I found my mind wandering back again and again to Fang's words, "You and me later?" I tried (probably unsuccessfully) not to blush fantasizing what it entailed. There's only so long you can actively listen middle-aged men talk about computer programming without wanting to stab your eye out with the silverware. Anyways, I looked into the living room, expecting Fang to still be playing video games or watching TV. The room was pitch black.

"Fang?" I called out

No response.

The steps creaked a little as I walked up them. Distantly I heard Jeb opening and closing drawers in his room. I knocked on Fang's door.

No answer.

Slowly twisting the knob, I poked my head around the door. The room seemed too still. It was just like that time before. Still dressed in his clothes, he was laying on top of the covers. The lamp was on, and he was on his side, facing away from the door. Only partially cast in light, the shadows seemed to blur him at the edges. I softly closed the door, padding toward him in socked feet.

"Fang?" I whispered.

As I neared the other side of the bed I could see his chest moving steadily. He was sleeping soundly. He had to have been not to hear me knocking. To be honest, I was pretty disappointed. What happened to "later"? Okay Max, time to walk away before you do something petty like wake him up and ask him why he fell asleep. I sighed, listening to his soft breathing. His fingers were twitching slightly. I knew I couldn't really wake him up. And why would I? Asleep was one of the only times he didn't look so tense.

Gently, I raised his olive toned hand to my mouth for a kiss. When I returned his hand, the fingers curled into the comforter. I turned to leave. Out of the corner of my eye though, I thought I saw movement. His onyx eyes flickered open. Leave it to Fang to wake up when he was touched.

"Max?" he asked, voice thick and husky. Let the swooning commence.

"No," I quipped, "this is Max II, Max's clone."

He chuckled, eyes closing again. It came out unusually low and gravely. Now _that_ , was a nice sound. It pulled the corners of his mouth into a large and equally, unusually dreamy smile. I simply adored it.

"Only the real Max could be that sarcastic. Besides, one is enough."

"Hey!"

He reached out, looking at me through heavily lidded eyes. I took his hand despite his tease and whoa-! He pulled me down, rolling me over him, and we were now facing each other. He was pretty strong for a mostly asleep guy.

"I fell asleep," he mumbled, eyes closed.

"I can see that," I grinned, my disappointment since faded. I snuggled closer to him under his arm draped over me.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. What did you do while we were gone?"

He didn't answer. His breaths were even again. I think he was asleep.

"Fang?" I whispered.

"Mmm?"

After a moment more, he opened his eyes a crack. He was cupping my cheek now. "You're so pretty."

I giggled. I should talk to Fang half asleep all the time. "Okay Fang."

His midnight eyes disappeared behind his eyelids again. I covered his hand with mine to try and keep him with me.

" . . . Do you . . ." the words came out mumbled, like they were being pulled slowly, tediously out of him, "love . . ."

Silence.

 _Yes?_

More silence.

YES!?

I was holding my breath now, staring at him, hoping he'd look at me. Was he going to say . . . There's no way he would say that though, right?

". . . spaghetti?" and then the _very_ insightful "don't . . . feed it to the cows."

It was like all the anticipation left my body in one snort. Boy would he be hearing about this later. I succeeded in muffling most of the laughter into the pillow. _Most_.

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied when I could talk again.

"I like you best like this," he slurred sleepily, seemingly stirred by the sound of my voice.

My goodness, it was like talking to an inebriated 5-year-old with ADD.

"How's that? In your bed?" I inquired quizzically.

He did the same sleep laugh, head turning into his pillow. My insides positively melted as he carried it on for a few moments. He never did get around to responding though. I was left in suspense as his hand slipped from my face and as his breathing was even once more. Basking in his quiet breaths and warmth, I stayed snuggled next to him, thinking that I got my "later" after all.

* * *

Fang's POV

She was grinning for some reason when I sat down at the breakfast table the next morning. "Good morning."

"Morning," I returned, and then after a beat, "I'm sorry. I feel asleep last night." I felt bad. I didn't meant to fall asleep, I had just been feeling so . . .

"I know, you told me."

Huh?

"What?" I asked.

"I went to find you," she explained, "you woke up, and we talked."

I shifted my gaze, trying to recall. I suddenly and vaguely remembered some event with Max last night. "I don't really remember much.," I admitted. She didn't look mad though. In fact, she looked amused. A little _too_ amused.

"You asked me if I loved spaghetti." She grinned behind her cup of orange juice.

"What else did I say?"

"Oh, you know," she said too nonchalantly, "you told me not to feed pasta to cows."

Tf? She had to be joking.

"Seriously?"

Max grinned. "Seriously."

"And this really happened? You didn't dream it."

She laughed, "believe it or not, for once in your life you weren't cool."

For once in my life? What was she talking about?

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," she continued, putting a hand to her mouth in mock confidence.

"Not like you could. No one else knows I exist," I responded dryly. Her smile faltered. Sh*t. What was wrong with me? I was such an a**hole sometimes.

Suddenly her smile reappeared in full force. She leaned in so close that I could feel her sweet breath on my cheek. "More for me," she practically purred. I think she knew exactly what she was doing.

I stared and stared and stared.

Her fingers curled into her shirt and her eyes scrunched up for a second like she was in pain, but she was smiling. "I die a little every time you make that face."

It was the little things like that that made me wonder if it was humanly possible to like her more than I already did.


	10. That Dark Place

Max's POV

"Hey birthday boy," I grinned.

He peeled his eyes from the wall to reveal a blank look. After a blink, "we don't even know if today's actually my birthday."

It was true. Neither of us know specifically when we were born. Jeb was only able to find records detailing the month we were first tested on.

"Today's as good a day as any."

"That's probably what the Whitecoats said when they made me," his voice was hollow.

I hated when he got like this. It was like he was in some place I couldn't see. He was gone. "Fang?" I touched his shoulder.

"Sorry," Fang shook his head, seeming to realize he was being curt, "You're right." He did this often now, catching himself. He ran his hands down his face and tried for an answering grin. I sat down his lap, a leg on either side of his hips. His eyes widened a bit before shooting toward Jeb's bedroom door. I smothered a small smile at his surprise.

"He's not here right now." Jeb had gone to the store to get Fang a cake and to pick up his gift. I was particularly excited about that.

"Oh," was all he said, his hands finding the small of my back. He shifted, leaning back into the couch cushion. I could see him coming back to me now. Shock therapy for the win.

"How's your birthday so far?" I asked, taking his face in my hands. We, or rather Jeb, had made him pancakes for breakfast, his favorite.

"Good," his eyes softened, "It's been good, Max," they were impossibly deep. "Thank you." I kissed one cheek, then the other, trying to lift him completely to the dark place he tended to go. I continued to kiss his nose and his forehead until he captured my mouth with his. We were pressed together now, his hands gently clutching me to him. Our lips moved against each other's. To be the only girl he'd ever kissed, he sure did know how to kiss. I ran my tongue along his bottom lips and he opened his mouth obligingly. His tongue met mine with the same sort of fever. Mmmm . . . I ran my fingers through his hair, his fingers tightened around my hip bones in response. Closer . . . closer . . . I turned my head a fraction when all of the sudden I was without. My eyes shot open to find Fang pulling away.

"What-?" I was a little startled. My skin cooled in his absence.

"Max," his voice was a little breathy, *sigh*. "You don't . . . have to make out with me, because it's my birthday."

"Seriously?" I laughed. His hands still gripped me, letting me know that he still wanted to kiss me. "First of all, I wouldn't be kissing you unless I wanted to. As for the second thing, it being your birthday is just a bonus."

He grinned, first tentatively, then sly, his face coming alive. "In that case." He flipped us so that I was on my back with him wedged between my legs. Honestly I was just surprised that we both fit on the couch like this.

"Are you done being a Debbie Downer? Can we go back to making out now?" I asked from beneath him.

He laughed from deep in his chest. "Please." His voice was a vibration against my neck which he nuzzled before kissing, his tongue sliding and then teeth nipping at the skin. I gasped a breath. My skin cooled again. I shook my head at his unasked question, no, you didn't hurt me, and pulled him back to me. Slipping my fingers under his chin, I guided his face to mine, his lips to my lips. We were making out again; tightly, deeply, passionately. His fingertips brushed the bare skin of my sides and I squeezed my thighs together involuntarily. The uneven breaths from his lips egged me on further. I gently pulled his earlobe with my teeth. That did it. He moaned. Sufficiently my insides knotted together and turned to soup all at once.

Admittedly, I was a little proud of myself. It was the first time I heard him make a sound. Last time I really only felt it. Oh, this was defiantly my new goal: operation make Fang moan. Ha! God, when did I become such a perv? I never imagined a single sound could make my skin tingle all the way down to my toes.

But Fang, Fang was gone. I could already feel him collecting himself, putting his guard up, pulling himself back into something he could control, into someone who didn't get lost in feelings, or rather, someone who didn't show those feelings. His arms slipped away from me.

 _He_ was slipping away from me.

* * *

Fang's POV

I don't know what's wrong with me. The School royally screwed me up I guess. Maybe avian and human DNA just can't coexist within the same body. Then again, Max seemed to be coping fine. Max . . . here she was looking up at me, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted, waiting for me to kiss her again. She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful, and not just on the outside. She could tell, like a sixth sense, when I was sad. She would talk to me and hug me and hold me and tease me and kiss me until I smiled. If I couldn't be happy here, wrapped in her arms, I couldn't be happy anywhere.

It's . . . hard. Some days I can't stand to touch her. Some days I can't stand to be touched. And when I lose myself in a feeling it's like, it's like my skin is being slowly pulled off. I feel so exposed, even if no one else is around. Every time, my skin crawls, and a cold shiver runs down my back. It makes me feel like I'd _rather_ my skin be peeled off. And from there well, it just spirals out of control. It doesn't feel normal, like an out of body experience or something. Like everything happening to me is happening to someone else. And the stronger I pull away emotionally, the stronger I pull away physically.

Oh, Max.

She never resented me for it. For leaving her wanting. For leaving her waiting. For leaving her just out of reach. Even now she was pushing up on her elbows. She untangled herself from me, pulling me up vertically on account that I now seemed frozen in place. I had much preferred being horizontal. Max smiled then, smoothing my hair down.

"You had make-out hair," she explained.

Thinking about being that close to anyone right now made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I tried not to move so my skin wouldn't crawl. She kissed my hand, completely unaware of the panic that had threatened to crush me earlier. It felt like lying to touch her when she didn't know about it. Yet . . . I couldn't bring myself to tell her.

* * *

" _Seriously?_ " It was about time.

Jeb smiled. "Yes. I think it's been long enough." When I didn't move he put his hand on my shoulder, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "I trust you."

It's my present to you he had said. I already had Max's; it rested under my shirt against my chest. Jeb slid open the back door. The cool night air hit my skin as I stepped out. I took a deep breath. I had spent many days here just looking outside. I don't think normal people realize what a privilege it is to be able to walk outside.

That's when I heard it. The faintest of whispers . . . Run.

"Feels like the cold front already hit," Jeb commented as Max slid the back door shut with a _thunk_.

Run.

I walked around the yard a bit, Max and Jeb watching me with smiles. It was a bit like they were releasing an injured rabbit back into the wild, and they were waiting to see how it would react.

Run.

I was dying to stretch my wings out.

Run.

"Jeb," Max began carefully, "I think we should go flying."

He jerked his attention away from me, alarmed. "Absolutely not!"

"Come on, it's been long enough that we know they have no clue where he is! Besides, it's not like I'm suggesting we wave to the neighbors as we fly by. We'd go somewhere remote."

My eyes jockeyed between them, the voice in my head getting louder and louder.

Run … Run.

"No, Max, I'm sorry. You can't budge me on this one. It's one thing to let him walk around the backyard, and something entirely different to let you fly together."

I could hear Max's voice rising in anger. I eyed the exits.

"Jeb, please! We can find a way."

"It's too risky."

They were really going at it now. The chanting in my head rose to the roar of white noise. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.

 _Run._

RUN!

I closed my eyes and stayed completely still.

* * *

Max's POV

"Tell him Fang. Don't you think it could work? Don't you want to fly?"

He didn't respond. I turned to look at him.

"Fang?" crickets. Literally. "He didn't go inside did he?"

Jeb shook his head no, the porch light illuminating his paled face.

"Fang?" I called out. I walked around to the side of the house, while Jeb checked the other. "Fang? If this is a joke it isn't funny."

I rushed inside, Jeb hot on my heals. "Fang?" I was starting to panic now. I checked his room, the bathroom, my room, everywhere. He was nowhere. _Nowhere._ Where was he hiding?

Hiding, that's it! He was still outside, he never moved. He, he camouflaged against the fence and waited for us to run inside like idiots. Yes, that was it! It had to be. My pulse throbbed in my ears as I raced out the door. I could already hear him laughing about how dumb I had been for worrying.

* * *

Fang's POV

It was too easy to run away. I should have felt something, anything at all, but there was only the blood rushing through my veins and the thumping in my chest. There were houses and houses and houses and cars and people and dogs barking as I neared. A cat passed under the streetlight and I couldn't help but think how normal, yet completely foreign it looked. The same with people. I passed a restaurant on the other side of the street. From the shadows I saw them on the patio laughing and drinking.

I'd never seen so many non-mutants in one place.

I walked and I walked until I couldn't walk anymore. And when there were less buildings and light and people I flew until I couldn't fly anymore. I landed in a small forest. For the first time in my life I was truly alone; what I had always wanted. Was it always this quiet? Leaning back against the base of a large pine, I tried to remember why I was here. There was nothing for me here. I was free, but what good is freedom when you have no purpose? I could start a new life, one of my own choosing. Away from everything. Everyone. Max . . .

" _Fang_."

I blinked. What? My eyes shot open. Where? I jumped up unsure of where I was. Oh, the forest. It was still dark and I was cold and exhausted and extremely miserable. I opened the smooth silver locket she gave me, her picture resting inside it. I sighed, what a pathetic idiot I was. I didn't want to be here. I didn't _have_ to be. I was suddenly so- a drop of water rolled down my cheek. Then another and another. It started to rain and abruptly everything in my life crashed together at once, the rain drops were every needle prick and every punch I'd been dealt, every terrible thing I'd done, every cage, every door shutting me in, every sneer, every word spoken about me as if I weren't even a person. My fist collided with the rough tree.

"AHHHHHHHHHH."

* * *

Max's POV

The door creaked.

"I said I'm fine Jeb." We drove around for hours looking for a sign of Fang, but we both knew he was long.

I looked at the clock, 4:02 AM. I was lying in bed too tired to move, too worried to sleep.

He didn't leave, I could still hear him breathing. "Jeb?"

Why was he breathing so heavily? I rolled over. Oh . . .


	11. Hanging on by a Thread

"Fang?!" I cried. I threw myself off the bed. "Where have you been? Why the hell did you leave? How could you-" He was a mess, dark hair dripping and plastered to his forehead, breathing in shallow huffs, shoes caked in mud, shirt disheveled and clinging to him, unusually pale, nose and cheeks flushed. But more than that, he was absolutely trembling. I met his eyes. They were so hollow. Those black orbs were glossed over, like someone had snuffed the life out of them. He tried for indifference, but I could physically see the effort to keep the muscles in his face relaxed. Oh Fang, he had never looked less indifferent.

He looked like he was hanging on by a thread.

I'd never seen anyone look so miserable in my life.

"Are you okay?" I pulled him into my arms, squeezing for a good minute. He felt more like a well-toned ice sculpture than a human being. His arms remained by his sides, so I pulled back. That's when I noticed his knuckles.

"What happened to your hands?!" I pulled him into the bathroom across from my room. Did he get into a fight?

"Sit," I said pointing to the toilet. He obeyed, resting his arm on the counter, then slowly lowering his head into the crook of his elbow. Every movement seemed to take an enormous amount of effort. His knuckles were crusted in blood and textured with splintered wood. I wouldn't be surprised if a few were broken. At least it didn't look like he had frostbite.

"God, did you beat up a forest? What did the trees ever do to you?" I asked pulling out splinters. He said nothing, but his breaths came slower now.

When his hands were cleaned and bandaged, I kissed them lightly. "Do you want to take a hot shower?" His head lolled left and right. I tugged on his arm so he would follow me. He didn't budge.

"I'm going to get you some dry clothes." He was in the same position when I returned. "Fang," I shook his shoulder until he lifted his head, "put these on." He didn't move, so gently I put his arm over my shoulder and lifted. He was so cold! I sat him on the bed, then bent down and began to untie his shoes.

"Max," he stilled my hand, "don't."

The words were a strangled whisper that he seemed to barely choke out. I stared up at him, because who the heck was that? He did **not** sound right. Moreover, the vibe he was giving off was uncomfortably dark. Far darker than usual, _which is saying something_. I was damn freaked. So naturally I busied myself by ignoring him and removing his shoes and socks. After pulling on three pairs of socks, I went to make him some hot chocolate.

"When I come back you better be changed." I looked back before shutting the door, feeling like something bad might happen if I left him alone. I know I was being pushy, but he wouldn't take care of himself if I didn't make him.

When I returned, I knocked on the door, "you done?" Silence. Please say he didn't make a break through the window. Then again, I don't think he had enough energy for that.

"Fang?" I eased the door open. Please don't be naked, please don't be naked.

He was holding his wet clothes, still slightly shaking, but at least warmer looking in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I traded him, putting the clothes in my hamper.

"Lay back," I told him, bringing his feet into my lap.

"Max . . ." he protested.

"Shush." It felt like he was trying to become a new ice cream flavor. "Did you take a swim in the artic? If you were any colder you'd be a Fang-cicle." He looked back at me with incredulous eyes. He almost seemed hurt. That shut me up. I wasn't trying to make light of the situation, but it was easier than thinking about how sad he was.

When I was satisfied his feet wouldn't fall off, I looked over at him. He had his head leaned back, eyes closed.

"Fang," I said softly, pulling the cup from his hands. I rubbed circles into his cheeks with my thumbs. He blinked a couple of times, coming back to me. "Are you alright?"

He just leaned forward into my shoulder. I rubbed his back, and slowly his arms came around me in a tight squeeze. "I'm sorry," he said into my shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

I thought about how his shaking figure looked in my doorway. I knew then the truth that I was trying to deny. He was legitimately depressed. And I think I knew it all along. Why do people always assume that someone will be fine? Why do we leave it alone when we know they aren't? Maybe it's easier or more comfortable. Maybe we worry we'll make the other person sadder or maybe we think we can't help them. It wouldn't happen again.

"It's okay," I held him firmly, "everything is going to be okay."

* * *

Fang's POV

She told me to get under the covers. I was so tired I couldn't have protested even if I'd wanted to, which I didn't. So I found myself in bed with her in a room I'd never even seen. The single lamp cast her weary shadow on the walls, which were light blue, like the sky in spring. She turned off the light, but I could still see her, only she looked like a shadow now. Her arm came across me, and I scooted closer. She was perfectly warm and perfect.

"Fang," her voice was a wisp of darkness, "I need to know why you left."

I laid there, trying to summon the courage to tell her. Minutes passed. She waited patiently, stroking my back. Why did that feel so good?

"I-I think I just needed to have a choice." I told her about the quilt and the fear and the sadness all swirling inside me like a whirlpool trying to pull me under. I told her everything. Her eyes began to water. "Mostly though," I whispered, "I think I just hate myself." The tears began to fall. It hurt her to hear it, but it was finally out there. It was the truth.

"I think you've punished yourself enough." She was holding me so tight. "I don't think you deserve to be punished. Whenever you feel like that I want you to tell me, don't bottle it up. "And don't ever do _that_ again," she added.

I didn't want to make a promise I couldn't keep, but my shoulders felt lighter. I couldn't have my walls and her too, so I would try.

She sniffed. "Are you staying for good?"

"I want to be with you."

All the tension left her body with a sigh. There wasn't an inch between us, we were like two people holding on for dear life. "I was hoping you would say that," her voice was softer than her breath on my cheek, "because . . . I'm deeply, deeply in love with you."

One second I was there and the next- the whirlpool had swallowed me whole. I was pulled out of my body, and my brain just scattered like light in a prism. Suddenly, my heart and every other organ slammed painfully back into my body. I didn't move, I couldn't even breathe.

Tears still streamed down her checks, but she was smiling as she touched my cheek. "I love you. I love you. I love you so much."

The thin wire holding me together snapped without so much as a sound. Every thought, every feeling, cascaded through my veins like a tidal wave. In a moment, my walls were like wisps of smoke and I was sobbing.

"I- I love you too."

* * *

Alternate Version

"God, did you beat up a forest? What did the trees ever do to you?" I asked pulling out splinters. He said nothing.

When his hands were cleaned, "do you want to take a hot shower?" I asked. His head lolled left and right. I tugged on his arm so he would follow me. He didn't budge. I started the tub anyways.

"I'm going to get you some dry clothes." He was in the same position when I returned.

I turned off the water then bent down and began to untie his shoes.

"Max," he slurred, "don't."

I stared up at him, because who the heck was that? He did **not** sound right. Wasn't that a sign of hypothermia? I didn't want him to die on the toilet like Elvis. Maybe I should get Jeb. Moreover, the vibe he was giving off was uncomfortably dark. Far darker than usual, _which is saying something_. I was damn freaked. So naturally I busied myself by ignoring him and removing his shoes and socks. When I tugged at the hem of his shirt he lifted his head.

He stilled my hands, "I'll do it."

"When I come back you better be in the tub." I looked back before shutting the door, feeling like something bad might happen if I left him alone. I know I was being pushy, but he wouldn't take care of himself if I didn't make him.

I heard a splash. "You done?" I knocked on the door. Silence. Please say he didn't make a break through the window. Then again, I don't think he had enough energy for that.

Please be okay, please be okay. "Fang?" I peeked around the door.

He was in the tub, shower curtain pulled across, only his head visible. I sat by the tub, facing him, gently grabbing his hand where it rested on the edge. I had to make sure he didn't fall asleep and drown. Sure enough, a few minutes later his eyes fluttered shut.

"Fang," I patted his cheek, "don't fall asleep on me." I began talking all sort of nonsense, trying to get him to focus on me, and trying to forget that he was completely naked. He blinked a lot, but as he thawed he seemed to be more alert, staring at the tiled walls.

I don't know how long we sat there. Finally he looked at me and said he wanted to get out, so I left to make him some hot chocolate. He was in my room holding his wet clothes, when returned. I traded him, putting the clothes in my hamper.

"Lay back," I told him, nodding to the bed. I brought his socked feet into my lap.

* * *

 **AN: RIP tree**


End file.
